Amy Winehouse, Back to Black

Any album that features the lines "What kind of fuckery is this?/ You made me miss the Slick Rick gig" demands closer investigation. Of course, 23-year-old Londoner Amy Winehouse demonstrated her aptitude for a tart couplet on her debut album three years ago, but this time the music, too, packs a similar punch, and the upshot is a 21st-century soul classic.

Starting with the pungent single Rehab, everything is in its right place: the exuberant neo-Motown swing supplied by producers Mark Ronson and Salaam Remi; the rich, sinewy vocals, somewhere between Lauryn Hill, Beth Gibbons and Etta James; and the thoroughly modern songwriting, in which infidelity is betrayed by a telltale carpet burn (You Know I'm No Good) and a lover is less desirable than a good supply of weed (Addicted). On the latter song she triumphantly declares: "I'm my own man." Only a fool would argue.